


Nor'easter (X-Files Deviations)

by JenAndrews



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/F, Femslash, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 16:07:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18369446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenAndrews/pseuds/JenAndrews
Summary: Samantha is having trouble dealing with Scully's fast approaching wedding.





	Nor'easter (X-Files Deviations)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the universe of The X-Files Deviations comic. I wrote this in 2017 after the comic was released. I loved the idea of a universe where Samantha got to grow up and be the person she was meant to be. Since in the canon universe she died as a teen, it leaves her as essentially a blank slate. But in the comic she has walked the same path as Fox Mulder, and seems to share similar personality traits.

** Nor’easter **

 

** **

Martha’s Vineyard, February 16th, 1994

4.37 p.m.

 

She shut her eyes tightly, blocking the cold and icy wind from stinging her eyes.

Since she was a child she had loathed the Massachusetts weather in the winter. The snowfall was always novel and beautiful as the first wispy, white flakes began to fall. She could remember her little feet rushing around the yard of her childhood home, making imprints in the snow, and the excitement she felt at catching a snowflake on her tongue. But after it had accumulated to several feet of slushy, muddy wetness that froze everything around it, it would swiftly lose its appeal. 

Today however, the weather was her friend. Her solace from a turmoil within her mind and heart, that she was finding increasingly difficult to contain.

As she sat here, gently rocking back and forth on the porch swing of her father’s home, Samantha asked herself the same question that had plagued her for the past two years.  _Was there any possible escape?_

She could conjure up many scenarios in which she could avoid the event itself. She could honestly say that she would prefer to break another limb and spend the day in hospital getting her fractured bone realigned. Was she desperate enough to intentionally injure herself? A month ago she wouldn’t have believed so. But with every day that passed she felt increasingly certain that she would not make it through this without completely unravelling. She was a strong woman, yes, but not when it came to her. When it came to her she was weak. So unforgivably weak that it frightened her. She _had_ to find a way out of this.

But she knew that regardless of her attendance she would still have to live with the reality that followed. She would still be forced to smile, to congratulate, to swallow and contain her grief every day for the rest of her life. That was the knowledge that truly scared her.

She breathed in deeply, drawing the chill of the winter air into her lungs. Readily she absorbed it, thanking it for the momentary distraction it brought her. She welcomed the cold, and the numbness slowly creeping across her skin. Soundlessly she begged for it to spread, to seep into her pores and sink deep into her chest. Perhaps then she could know a moments reprieve from this burning ache that was slowly and silently consuming her.

Her hands were bare; the gloves which she’d removed a moment earlier sitting beside her. She knew from the moment she took the carton into her hands, that this was a mistake. She knew it was a mistake, and rebelliously concluded that she didn’t care. She didn’t _want_ to care, about _anything_ any longer. She didn’t want to feel. Just for a moment, she didn’t want to feel.

Her fingers traced around the edges of the box. It felt smooth and familiar under her fingertips. Her thumbs flicked the top open and shut, the orange buds peeking out at her ever so briefly.  It had been almost two years since she’d opened a pack of Morleys. She had tucked this carton away the day she quit, afraid that temptation may defeat her if she didn’t know they remained close by, ready for her to consume at her will.

Her fingers paused in their rhythmic dance, holding the pack open and baring its contents. She could feel the anticipation mounting as she slipped her fingertips around the tip of the selected cigarette. As she pursed her lips around the long, narrow cylinder, she paused. She knew in the back of her mind that this was accepting defeat. This did not come easily or naturally to her. She was a fighter; she had always been a fighter. But this was not a battle she knew how to win.

She slid her hand into the purse that sat beside her, accidently knocking her gloves to the ground as she did. Her fingers roamed until she felt the familiar touch of cool metal hitting her skin. She hurriedly retrieved the lighter from inside. She flipped it open, staring at the flame for a moment before bringing it towards her.

“Samantha?!” She heard her name being called from a few yards away.

Sam quickly shut the lighter closed before turning her head towards her father. She removed the cigarette from her mouth, holding it between her fingers in front of her.

 “Hi, Daddy.” She said softly.

“What on Earth are you doing sitting out here? It must be twenty degrees today.” Bill questioned, closing the front door behind him and stepping towards her.

“After thirty years I think I’ve gotten used to it.” Sam said, wryly.

“Well if that’s the case, I’m sure it won’t bother me if I sit with you a while.” He chuckled.

Sam smiled. She knew she had made the right choice in coming here. She wasn’t certain if she was ready or willing to talk about everything she was keeping inside, she only knew that the pressure was mounting, and if there was one person in the world she could trust enough to see her break down and spill out all her messy contents, it was her father.

“I thought you quit those things?” Bill said, moving Sam’s purse to the side and nestling himself beside her.

“I did.” She smiled weakly as she twiddled the cigarette anxiously between her fingers. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like them.”

“Cigarettes I love, just not when they are in your mouth. Can’t say I ever cared too much for your choice in brand either.” Bill said, picking up the carton that sat on top of Sam’s purse.

“I didn’t choose Morley, Dad. Morley chose me.” She jested.

“Did you really drive eight hours through the snow to sit out here in the cold?” Bill smiled, brushing the curls away from his daughter’s face.

“Something like that.” Sam answered, turning her attention towards the ground.

_How was she going to explain this?_ She could choose to be evasive, but that would defeat the purpose of her journey. She needed to talk to someone, but when it came down to it she was afraid of saying the words out loud. That would make this all far too real.

“Does this have anything to do with work?” Bill asked. “Your partner?”

Sam wondered what had given her away, and how her father always seemed to know what was going to come out of her mouth before she even spoke.

“She’s not my partner anymore. Not since they shut us down. I’ve barely seen her these past few  months.”

Although she found it agonising to keep away, Sam knew very well that this distance between them was solely her own doing. She was the one who had been purposefully avoiding her. She would do anything not to have to participate, discuss or even acknowledge this wedding.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that wedding invitation I received last month, would it?” Bill asked casually.

“How do you do that?” Asked Sam, smiling curiously.

“Do what?” Bill asked, quite cagily.

“How do you always know?” She tilted her head to the side in wonder.

“Paternal instinct? I think perhaps God decided to pass onto me what was denied your mother.”

While Samantha loved her mother, she couldn’t help but agree. Her mother lived but a few miles away and it had never occurred to her that she might seek solace there. She had no intention of even stopping by before leaving town.

On an average occasion she would visit her mother out of a feeling of obligation, but today she simply wasn’t strong enough. Sam could feel her walls, fragile and shaking, and ready to crumble, and her walls always had to remain up around her mother. Her mother failed to accept and understand her the way her father always had. She had never had to seek or ask for his approval and acceptance, he simply offered it.

“Besides, I’ve seen you in love before.” Bill added.

“Not like this, Dad. I’ve never felt like this before about anyone.” Sam paused for a moment, searching for the right way to explain. “Do you remember what it was like the first time you fell in love? The way it completely consumes you? You think after that first heartbreak that love has lost its magic. You think that you’ll never feel that strongly, that raw, blind passion for anyone ever again. But I can honestly say, through all the relationships I have ever had, I have never felt like this before. Not even that first time.”

“Sounds like the real stuff.” He muttered.

“Unfortunately I couldn’t have chosen someone less available. I don’t know what to do, Dad. She needs me to be there, and I can’t be there for her. She called me to attend her dress fitting with her mother and sister. I didn’t know what to do. I panicked, made up some excuse and the next thing I know I’m in the car on my way here.”

“Does she know how you feel?” Bill asked, focusing his attention on the cigarette carton in his hands so his daughter felt comfortable enough to speak. He knew discussing this was difficult for her.

“I’m not sure.” Sam mumbled softly.

It was true, she didn’t know. Sam had been teasing and flirting with her from the moment the two of them had met. But it was all under the guise of fun and friendship. Whether or not her former partner could see through that façade and recognise that she was in fact in love with her, she wasn’t sure.

“You need to tell her, for your own sanity.” Bill said, matter-of-factly.

“I can’t do that, Dad. She loves him. Why would she be marrying him if she didn’t? Telling her would only drive a wedge between us, and I couldn’t stand that. I can’t stand the distance that’s been created between us already. No.” Sam shook her head.  “I can’t be selfish. I can’t put this on her. Especially not now, with her wedding so close. I have to find a way to deal with this on my own… I just, don’t know how.”

Her father said nothing, just gave her a nod of understanding as he put his arm around her shoulders.

“It’s my fault. I broke the cardinal rule. I fell in love with someone who couldn’t possibly return my feelings. I knew better, but I couldn’t help it. With her, I couldn’t help it.” Sam’s voice broke as the tears that were glistening in the corners of her eyes finally began to spill.

They rocked back and forth on the swing as she sobbed quietly onto his shoulder. He didn’t speak again until she had been quiet for several minutes.

“Plan on staying the night?”

“Well I don’t think I can drive back through this.” Sam gestured at the clearly escalating snowstorm.

***

“I think it’s about time I turn in.” Bill said, climbing out of his armchair. “Do you need anything?”

Sam had spent the past few hours snuggled up on the couch, eating junk food her father always kept in the back of the pantry just for her. She felt a million miles away from her typical life of darkness and conspiracy. She could even almost forget about her. _Almost._

“No, I’m fine. I think I might watch TV for a little longer, if the noise won’t bother you?”

“Not at all. But make sure you get enough sleep; you’ve got a long drive tomorrow. If the roads aren’t closed that is.”

“I will, Dad. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Sammy.” Bill answered, leaning down to pat her on the top of the head.

***

Sam’s eyes opened slowly and reluctantly. Through bleary vision she could see the picture on the TV, still playing the movie she had been watching. Caddyshack.

It took a moment for her to realise where she was, and that she’d accidently fallen asleep without taking herself to bed. She decided that it didn’t matter. She often made a bed of her own couch, so it felt more natural and comfortable where she was. Her eyes darted over to the clock as she reached down beside the sofa to grab the remote. She noted that it was 11.46 as she flicked off the television set and closed her eyes again.

She felt herself beginning to drift off, but was startled by a tapping at the front door. She looked at the clock again. Nobody in their right mind would be visiting at 11.52 p.m. in the middle of a snowstorm. Instinctively she jumped to her feet and quickly retrieved her gun from the holster that was slung over the back of a chair. She tucked it into the waist of her pants and pulled her shirt back down to cover it.

Cautiously she approached the front door, switching on the porch light as she did. Her view was distorted by the fogged up windows.

“Who is it?” Sam called, hoping she would be heard over the whistling of the storm.

“It’s Scully!” She heard a call from the other side of the door.

_Scully?_

Sam quickly opened the door, and was bombarded with a freezing gush of snowy wind.

“What on Earth are you doing out here? You didn’t drive through this did you?” Sam asked, already knowing the very obvious answer. She quickly ushered her friend inside. She was noticeably shivering beneath her protective woollens. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” She asked, brushing the snow from Scully’s shoulders and taking her scarf and coat.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Sam could see what almost looked like embarrassment flit across Scully’s features. “I just… needed to get away.”

“But driving in the dark for eight hours through a nor’easter?” Sam questioned as she hung up Scully’s things on a coat hook.

“Yes, I’m afraid I underestimated how bad the weather conditions were. But I made it here safely.” Scully said, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

Samantha removed the gun from her waist and placed it on the hallway table. She could sense Scully’s tension. But her heart was thudding with relief at seeing her. She missed her. God, how she missed her.

“You must have really wanted to get away.” Sam probed.

“Yes.” Scully looked away to avoid meeting her eyes.

“Hello, Dana.” Bill greeted softly. Both Sam and Scully turned their head towards the bottom of the staircase where he was standing.

“Hello, sir.” Scully replied. “I’m so sorry to disturb you this late at night.”

“Nonsense. That’s why we have a guest bedroom.” Bill waved his hand at her, dismissing the notion that this was anything but a welcome visit. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, sir.” She smiled gently.

“Please, call me Bill.”

“I apologise. I don’t mean to be overly formal. I often called my own father ‘sir’. He was a Navy man.” Scully explained.

Bill gave her a sympathetic nod, knowing she had lost her father not too long ago. “Well I’ll let you two get reacquainted; now that I know the house isn’t being burgled.” He chuckled and retreated swiftly back up the stairs. He had no idea of the reason for Scully’s late night visit, but he was sure that the reason had to be compelling. He hoped his daughter was wrong in her assertion that their situation was ‘hopeless’.

“Come. Sit down and get warm, you must be freezing.” Sam said, coaxing Scully towards the living room.

“I am.” She replied. Sam noted the coldness in her tone. She was beginning to wonder if Scully may in fact be angry with her. Not that she had to wonder why. As much as she wished she could be happy for Dana, she had failed to play the part of the supportive friend.

Samantha grabbed the throw she had been sleeping under from the couch, and gestured Scully to sit down.

Once she was seated she took the blanket and wrapped it around Scully’s shoulders, transforming her into a woollen cocoon.

“Let me make you some hot cocoa to warm you up.” Sam offered, cinching the blanket closed with her hands.

“No, I’m fine.” Scully answered, clenching her teeth and inhaling shakily.

“Scully, you are shivering.” Sam said, kneeling down on the floor in front of her and reaching for her hands. Just as she suspected, they were alarmingly cold, Sam encased them in her own, absorbing the cold and sharing her own warmth. While the chill of her skin felt uncomfortable, God, it felt so good to be this close to her again. It had been so long since she’d gotten to touch her. Sam kept her focus on their joined hands, afraid if she looked up into Scully’s eyes that Scully would know exactly what she was feeling.

They sat there in that position, neither of them speaking. The only sound was that of their breaths and skin sliding over skin as Sam ran her hands back and forth over Scully’s.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Scully demanded, completely shattering the restful mood.

There it was. What she had driven eight hours through a snowstorm to say.

“I haven’t been avoiding you.” Sam lied, pulling her hands away.

“You’re avoiding me right now.” Scully’s voice, though quiet and controlled, was tinged with anger and frustration. She shot back up onto her feet, and stared down at Sam with an expression of resentment. Sam felt too guilty to look her in the eye and she certainly couldn’t bear to witness the look of scorn on her face. “I know that we aren’t partners anymore, and I know that losing the X-Files was terribly hard for you. But I thought our connection meant more to you than this. Was I fooling myself? I’m sorry if this sounds incredibly self-involved, but I really thought that our friendship mattered to you as much as the work we did together.”

In all the time she’d known her, Sam couldn’t recall an instance when Scully was this open and forthright with her emotions. Scully did not usually like to admit when she was hurt, and Sam was shocked by this revelation that she had in fact hurt the one person she cared for most. While she expected that Scully might feel some disappointment by her absence, she believed Dana would have been too excited and preoccupied by the wedding plans for it to matter.

“You do matter to me, Scully.” Sam cringed internally at her own words. They were so inept and useless, falling short of even vaguely capturing her importance. Scully didn’t ‘matter’ to her, she was _everything_ to her.

“Then why? Why have you done everything in your power to disappear from my life? Especially now, when I need you the most.” Scully glared, unable to keep the anger that had been building up for months from clawing its way to the surface.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been there to help with the wedding. I guess I thought your sister had it all covered.” This excuse sounded incredibly pathetic and she knew it.

“No! That’s not what I…” Scully shook her head and turned away.

“What is it, Scully?” Sam asked, rising off the floor. When Scully didn’t reply, or turn around, Sam reached out to touch her shoulder. That had been their trademark show of support while working together. A way of communicating without words that they were in this together and neither of them would ever be left alone. Scully slowly turned back around.

“I’ve really needed someone to talk to.” Scully croaked, her voice raw with emotion. “For the longest time you were the person I trusted the most. The one person I could share anything with. I trusted you with my life.”

“You don’t trust me anymore?” Sam asked, devastated by the thought. A few hours earlier she didn’t believe things between them could get any worse, but this was worse. She’d hurt her. This was unforgivable.

“I just don’t understand why. Every time I try to reach out to you, you find some reason not to see me. I’ve called you for every single, little thing I could possibly use as an excuse to see you. Do you really think I cared about what kind of paper my wedding invitations were printed on? Do you think I care about flowers and place settings? I don’t! I don’t care about any of it!” Scully was almost shouting, unable or unwilling to keep her emotions in check any longer.

“I’m so sorry, Scully. I honestly didn’t know.” Sam’s heart was breaking, realising she had caused her friend so much pain. Her arms ached to wrap around her and mend all the hurt she had caused.

“I needed you.” Scully’s voice shook as she began to cry, her chin falling down to her chest.  Sam had only seen Scully cry on a few occasions, and those few were far too many. Scully’s tears had the power to rip through her heart and tear all the way down to her soul. There they twisted and bent and drained the life from her veins until she felt cold and lifeless herself. She was frantic to make the tears stop. Sam reached out for her, and was relieved when Scully moved to accept her embrace. Sam pulled her in tightly as they both began to sob. It felt so good to hold her close. “I need you.” Scully whispered against her neck.

“I need you too Scully, more than anything.” Sam spluttered out through her tears. “I just didn’t realise you needed me. I’ve been unsure of how I fit into your life anymore. I wasn’t sure if there’s still a place for me.”

Scully pulled back to look at Sam, her face etched with confusion.

“What do you mean? You’re still my friend, my _best_ friend.”

The word ‘friend’ was both wonderful and terrible to hear at the same time. Sam wished she could mean more than that, but that she should be loved by Scully in any capacity was a blessing she was grateful for.

Scully brought her hands to cup Sam’s face, brushing away the saltwater staining her cheeks. Sam nodded her head in recognition, smiling bravely through her tears.

Scully let her arms fall to her sides, but Sam, reluctant to let her go, held on to her wrists, hoping it would keep them connected. Scully inhaled deeply. She met Sam’s eyes with the unmistakable look of regret.

“Sam, I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.” Scully sobbed. “I’m so afraid. I’m so afraid of facing it. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll be right here with you, okay? I’m sorry I ever let you doubt that.” Sam soothed. She slid her hands down from Scully’s wrists to intertwine with her fingers, their palms pressed gently against one another.

“I don’t think I can go through with this wedding.” Scully blurted, afraid if she didn’t get the words out quickly she might never say them.

Samantha was both shocked and elated. She really hoped that nothing resembling happy was written on her face.

“Why?” Sam asked, the shock evident in her voice.

“Because… I….” Sam could tell that Scully was fearful, that she was holding something back. “I just can’t.”

“Scully, you should never marry someone out of a feeling of obligation. I’ve never been married, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

“I think of all the pain I have caused… his wife… his daughter. If I leave now it will have all been for nothing.”

“Scully, their relationship failed. That wasn’t your fault. It had nothing to do with you.” Said Sam, gently squeezing her fingers in an act of comfort.

“But it did. I entertained it. I knew Daniel was married and I let it progress. I have to take some responsibility for that. I lost the respect of so many people - my family, my friends and even myself to some extent. It didn’t matter because I believed that our connection was real, and I believed that we belonged together and that that somehow excused any selfishness... I believed that for a long time.”

Scully was afraid to say that that ‘long time’ had ended the day the two of them had met.

“Do you really think marrying him will relieve your guilt?” Sam asked.

“No.” Scully spluttered, her voice raw with emotion. “I just don’t know how to admit to everyone that I have fucked up so completely - especially to him. I guess I am more driven by pride and ego than I would care to admit. I have always endeavoured to make sensible decisions based on sound reason. It’s hard even for me, to understand how I went so far down the wrong path. For the past two years I have clung to any factor I possibly could as a reason to stay, completely ignoring what my heart is telling me.”

“What’s your heart telling you?” Questioned Sam, praying she’d hear the answer she hoped for.

“That I don’t love him.” Confessed Scully. The sadness and guilt she felt evident in her expression.

Samantha’s heart was torn. This was music to her ears, but witnessing the tears flowing down Scully’s cheeks made it impossible to be pleased. She wasn’t sure of the right thing to say, so she reached out to embrace her again.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I promise.” Sam whispered into Scully’s shoulder “We’ll figure it out.”

“I missed you so much.” Scully sobbed. “I’ve felt like I’ve been drowning.”

“I’m so sorry, I should have been there.” Sam said, with a deep remorse.

“It’s okay, you’re here now.” Scully answered, burying her face into Sam’s hair.

They stood there holding each other for several minutes, both equally as grateful for the other’s presence.

***

Samantha wriggled and squirmed in her sleep, trying to find a more comfortable position on the old lumpy sofa. Scully pulled away from her, allowing her to settle once more before she draped her arm back over Sam’s chest.

She’d slept next to Samantha on many occasions, but never quite like this, with her face snuggled into her former partner’s neck and half of her body lying on top of her. Sam’s arm was wrapped around her waist – the only way they would both fit on such a narrow sofa.

Scully had awoken a few minutes earlier, surprised to find herself in such close proximity, and even more surprised by how comfortable she felt with her friend sleeping beneath her. All of the coldness had left her body, replaced by the warmth of Samantha’s skin.

The worry and anxiety she’d tried so hard to rid herself of, had melted away in a sleepy haze. The chaos and desperation that had plagued her for months had been drowned out by the steady thump of Samantha’s heart beneath her fingertips. It had been months since she had felt this safe, this content, this _normal._

It was peculiar, since ‘Samantha’ and ‘normal’ didn’t really go together in any sense. Strange, erratic, crazy, brilliant, intelligent, insightful, _beautiful_ \- those were words she’d use to describe Samantha, but never ‘normal’. Normal was too mundane a word, to ever be associated with someone who was the epitome of remarkable. From the art she sketched and painted, to the uncanny way she could dissect a criminal case, nothing that she did was ordinary.

Scully knew she should get up and go to the guest bedroom. The sleeping arrangements had been discussed before they’d fallen asleep while watching some ridiculous movie. Yes, she knew that she _should_ get up. She also knew that was the last thing she wanted to do right now. What she wanted was to stay here and feel Sam’s chest rise and fall beneath her and nuzzle her face into her trademark curls. The comfort she felt laying here was confusing. Then again everything in her life had seemed confusing for as long as she’d known Sam

While working on the X-Files, Scully had often felt as though she was losing sight of who she was. But since her time apart from Samantha, she had come to realise that the person she was - the person she thought she’d always be - had disappeared.

She’d been in a permanent state of metamorphosis since the moment she stepped into Samantha’s office that first day. In the past two years she’d seen things, experienced things she couldn’t even have imagined. But of all the strange and wonderful things she’d experienced, Samantha was the most significant. Everything felt heightened when she was near. Life had colour and light and darkness. It was almost as though she had been asleep her whole life and Sam was the only thing that could keep her awake. She’d had a taste of living, and couldn’t bear the thought of going back to sleep again. That’s what being separated from her felt like… like slipping away into a dark nothingness.

Scully suspected if she had never met Samantha, never worked on the X-Files, never seen the things Samantha had forced her to see, that she would be married by now. Happily or not, she wasn’t sure. But the woman who had fallen in love with Daniel - the one who promised to spend her life with him - no longer existed. She was someone else completely now, and she couldn’t feel the things she used to feel for him.

Scully knew now, beyond certainty, that she could not marry him. She also felt for the first time, that she was capable of facing this with dignity and grace. She felt in control again. She silently resolved that she would speak to Daniel as soon as possible. What would come after she wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t afraid anymore.  She had her curly-haired touchstone back.

She still wasn’t sure what had caused Sam to pull away to begin with, but after seeing her break down in tears before her eyes, she was reassured that their connection was intact. Whatever the reason she had disappeared, she was certain it wasn’t because she didn’t care, which is what she had feared and almost convinced herself of.

Sam twitched once again. Scully lay perfectly still, in hopes her friend wouldn’t wake from her slumber. She wasn’t ready for this to end yet, and it would have to if she woke up. This was too intimate a position, even for them.  But she wanted this, _needed_ this closeness right now.

Sam gave a sleepy groan - an _intoxicating_ groan. Scully tried to suppress the exhilaration she felt flitting in her chest. It was the sweetest sound. She wanted to hear it again. She wanted to tattoo it onto her psyche and play it over and over again every night while alone in bed. Sam’s right leg was riding up ever so slightly between hers and Scully found herself wishing that she weren’t fully clothed. If she weren’t she could feel the soft heat of Sam’s skin rubbing against her own. She swallowed deeply and tried to calm herself.

Any chance of that however was dismissed by Sam’s pelvis writhing beneath her. Scully’s breathing was becoming shallow, and her pulse was beginning to quicken. _What was happening?_ Scully knew the answer already, and she willed herself to move away. But it was as if Samantha had her in some sticky sweet honey trap.  There was a yearning building in her chest - an affection flowing through her veins that was steadily pooling into a raw ache between her thighs. Scully was fighting to keep her pelvis from arching forward in want.

She had to control herself. She’d never experienced this attraction to any other woman and she didn’t know what it meant. It was just one of the things that had confused and perplexed her from the day Samantha walked into her life and turned it so wonderfully, so thrillingly upside down. She knew she had to move away, _now._ She just hoped she could manage to do so without waking her.

Scully lifted her body up, trying to use the couch as leverage. She shifted awkwardly against the back of the sofa, trying to figure out a way to manoeuvre over Sam’s sleeping body without leaning her weight on her. The best she could hope for was stretching her leg over the top of her and throwing herself haphazardly onto the floor.

She’d gathered herself into an awkward hovering position over Samantha’s body when suddenly her eyes shot open.

“You know, I’ve had many girls try to sneak off after sleeping with me… I never thought you would be one of them.” Sam laughed, shaking her head in mock derision.

Scully looked down at her and quickly started giggling at the ridiculous position she found herself in. Her muscles were struggling to support her weight and no longer caring she let herself fall directly on top of Sam, her legs straddling her thighs.

“I’m so sorry!” Scully stammered, as she nuzzled her face into Sam’s neck. The awkwardness of the situation had her giggling uncontrollably.

“What on Earth were you doing?” Sam chuckled as she awakened fully.

“Trying not to wake you!”  Scully explained, relaxing all of her weight on top of her.

“Good job.” Sam remarked, running her fingers through Scully’s red hair. Never one to miss an opportunity she slid her other hand around her lower back, running her fingers along the small expanse of exposed skin where her shirt had ridden up.

So many times Sam had imagined waking up in this exact position. She’d daydreamt about what it would be like to hold her like this and how it would feel. While she had an artist’s imagination, even she couldn’t conjure up the softness of the skin beneath her hands, or the intoxication of her warm body on top of hers. She knew within a moment’s time that this experience would be over, perhaps never to be repeated again, so she did her best to drink her in, to document and file away this moment so she could keep it and revisit it forever.

She was surprised however that Scully seemed to be making no attempt to move.  As her amusement began to fade and her giggles became subdued she remained where she was, with her lips and nose pressed tantalisingly against her neck, her hot breath washing over her like summer rain. This was the sweetest kind of torture.

“Can I sleep here?” Scully whispered into Sam’s ear.

Samantha was having trouble fathoming what was being requested.

“I’ll pay you to.” Sam chuckled.

While this was a dream come true for Sam she couldn’t help but worry about Scully. She was reluctant to say anything for fear she might disturb this vision of heaven she was being gifted, but when her mind wouldn’t let go of her concern she found the gumption to speak. She didn’t want anything tainting this experience.

“Are you okay, Scully?” Sam whispered, her hand rubbing up and down Scully’s back, lulling her to sleep.

“Better than I’ve been in a long, long time.” Scully mumbled sleepily.

That was all Sam needed to hear.

As they lay there, both willing themselves to stay awake and absorb each other, something inside Scully was shifting. She was letting go. Letting go of everything she had been desperately trying to hold on to, and beginning to embrace everything she’d so stubbornly been pushing away.

***

Washington D.C., February 17th, 1994

7.52 p.m.

 

I throw myself onto my bed, thoroughly exhausted from the day’s activities. Two days of driving for over eight hours straight has the muscle in my shoulders aching and tense tonight. Truthfully the drive back from my father’s house took significantly longer than the trip there, due to several road closures. I suspect that will be my last panic-induced expedition during a blizzard.

As I lay here and shut my eyes, I immediately think of her. I wonder if perhaps my exhaustion isn’t credited, at least in part, to the heavy emotions that have been weighing me down for so long. I feel at last some relief from them tonight, but my soul is still burning from the aftermath of her touch.

I feel her here with me, not in body, but in spirit. Her essence lingers on my skin. Waking up to her this morning, with her head resting peacefully on my chest - that was an experience I thought I would be forever denied. I have taken this want for her, this heartache to bed with me for more nights than I can count. But this evening is different. There is hope. Hope that she is free to remain by my side.

It’s obtuse, I know. I am certain if it won’t be Daniel she promises herself to, it will be some other man. Some charming stranger who will sweep into our lives like a hurricane, carrying her away and leaving my soul tattered and broken. But that obscure future is too far away for me to fear. Selfishly I want her to remain unattached, because that is the only way the aching in my chest will cease.

I am exhausted but restless. My mind is revisiting last night, and the memory of her body surrounding mine. The way she laid, pressed against me as I brushed my fingers back and forth across her lower back. As my fingers traced beneath her shirt, she sighed. God, that sigh was the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. Scully’s tone was dripping with pleasure. Knowing that I caused that sound to escape her lips is exciting me, even more now than it had at the time. Last night I had to be restrained, but not now. Now I am here alone in my bed and I can appreciate it fully as I replay it in my mind.

My fingers are tracing back and forth across the skin of my belly. I pretend that it is her that I am touching. Soft, warm, delicious Scully skin. What I would give for a taste of her skin.  I think of her, and the luscious curve of her hips. I imagine running my fingers along the dip under her ribcage, my hands sneaking up to cup my breasts as I play Scully’s pleasured moan in my head once more. My fingers trace and circle and tease my nipples, imagining they are hers, firm and ripe and heaving as her breath becomes heavy at my touch.

I let my hands trail down to the hem of my pyjama pants, but I don’t yet let them wander underneath. Instead I slide my hands over the fabric, nestling my hands between my legs and stroking my inner thighs. I trail them up and down, increasing my arousal with every pass. My right hand finds its way between the crevice of my legs and I press hard through my underwear. My fingertips can feel the mound of my clit and I stroke hard but slowly against myself.

“Dana.” I groan. I know I should stop. I know that the consequences of these fantasies are too dire to be worth it, my want for her only increasing, the pain only becoming more profound. But tonight I don’t care. Tonight I don’t want to stop. I want her. I want her so badly that it hurts to breathe.

My hands hurriedly grab the hem of my underwear, pulling my pyjama pants with them as I push them down out of my way. My legs spread apart, and my hands move frantically in an effort to heighten my arousal. 

I push my fingers into myself, thinking of her face contorting in arousal as I do. Slowly I slide them in and out, again and again, imagining her tongue taking their place. Suddenly I can feel tears prickling my eyes - this feels so wonderful and so empty at the same time. I need her. I need her here with me. But she’ll never be. This is all I’ll ever have. My heart is flooding with sadness. I start to cry.

I clutch at the covers beside me, drying my fingers on the sheets. I curl up into a pathetic ball of remorse, my pyjamas still twisted around my ankles. My steady stream of tears turns into muffled sobs. I should have known better. I did know better.

I pull my clothing back on and I cry until every last sob has been expelled from my chest. Exhausted I fall asleep, praying that when I wake the pain will be gone.

***

I stand before her apartment door, considering my actions. I know that I don’t need to be here - that one of the random motel rooms that we have so often called home would suffice for the night. I know I’m not here for want of shelter. I know that I am here for her.

I hope that she’ll open the door and smile at me, the way she did when I walked into the office every morning. I hope she will pull me into her arms and hold me tightly enough that I don’t feel so on the verge of falling apart. Perhaps she will regale me with the details of one of her peculiar stories, and fill my mind with anything other than the events of the past hour. Whatever should happen, I know just being in her presence will ease my discomfort.

I have lost hold of the certainty and clarity that she brought to me last night, and I desperately need her to restore it. I feel empty and lost, like I am floating, and I know that she will be the one to tether me, as she always has. The guilt pounding inside my chest will only be silenced by her.

I take a deep breath, and knock on the door. “Sam?”

I knock twice more, beginning to feel concerned before she appears before me looking exhausted.

“Scully? Are you okay?” She says, worry filling her voice.

“Can I stay here tonight?” I ask, knowing she won’t be anything but welcoming, but feeling guilty all the same.

“Of course.” She answers, swinging the door open fully.

I enter her apartment, rolling my travel suitcase in behind me.

“Welcome to Casa Del Mulder.” She smiles, and my heart immediately feels lighter. “Do you need anything. Alcohol? Ice-cream? Chocolate? We have all of these things in abundance.”

“Somewhere to lie down is really all I need.” I manage a smile back, but I know she can tell it is forced. She can always tell.

“Do you want to talk?” She asks.

I desperately want her to put her arms around me, to soothe and caress me, and I consider rehashing this evening’s exchange for a chance that she will, but I am not ready. The experience is still too raw.

“Not right now.”

“We could watch a movie? Or do you want to go right to sleep? You can take my bed.”

“I can’t take your bed.” I say, but I am strangely compelled by the idea.

“Of course you can, you know I sleep on the couch half of the time anyway. Let me just change the bedding.”

“That’s really not necessary.” I reply.

“Believe me. You don’t want to sleep on my sweaty sheets.” She smiles heading towards the linen closet.

“Okay.” I smile, following her, but I am disappointed that I won’t sleep surrounded by her scent.

I watch as she strips down her bed and help her stretch the fitted sheet onto the mattress. She spreads the blankets over the bed as I replace the pillow covers.

“Look at us, being all domestic.” She smiles at me, tucking the blankets in. “The guys back at work would have a field day if they saw this.”

“I’m sure they would.” I answer. It hadn’t been a week working with Samantha when I heard the first snide remark about us sleeping together. Sam later casually mentioned that she did nothing to quell such rumours, and may have actively helped perpetuate them.  I wasn’t surprised at all, and was actually somewhat amused. She has no qualms with flirting with me in front of anyone, and it’s one of many aspects about our unique relationship that I love.

I begin to think about last night, and the feelings that welled up inside me as she touched me. I know I have been denying the truth, and that I’ve been afraid. I know these feelings have everything to do with why I just called off my engagement. What I’m not certain of is how to tell her, or even if I should.

“All done!” She announces as she tucks the last corner in. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. I’m fine.” I answer, knowing what I need is her, and knowing there’s no way for me to make that request.

“Alright then. Sweet dreams I guess.” She wanders towards me, and my heart leaps as I realise she is going to hug me. She pulls me tightly against her, and I melt. I feel dizzy. I feel her lips brush against my cheek and my legs feel weak. I fear I may fall if it weren’t for her holding me steady. I hold on too and I don’t want to let go. Before I know it she has pulled away, leaving my arms empty once more. “It’ll be okay, Scully.” She says brushing my hair behind my ear and setting my skin alight with her fingertips.

She smiles at me and I smile back, and then a moment later she is gone.

***

I have awoken to the sound of Bill Murray’s voice mumbling something on the TV. Did I really fall asleep in the middle of Caddyshack for a third time? I guess that old cliché about lesbians loving golf is certainly not true for me. I have an obnoxious peculiarity of needing to watch a movie all the way through once I have started it, which is why I borrowed the cassette from my father. Not only must I watch the entire thing but I must start from the beginning again. I am determined I will make it through next time.

I roll over on the sofa so familiar with my body that it has moulded to my form. I prefer sleeping out here. It feels more alive than the rest of the apartment. The gentle gurgle of the fish tank often soothes me to sleep, and I suppose it feels less lonely than my bedroom. I am doing all I can not to think about Scully nestled in my bed. I am also trying not to speculate why she is here, and about what transpired this evening. She will open up when she is ready, and I have no wish to drive myself insane until that time comes. She is a very private person. She despises appearing vulnerable. If I were to try to coax her into speaking when she isn’t ready she will shut down even further. I know I must be patient. Still I long to hear that she and Daniel are over. I hate myself for it. I hate myself for wanting something that is hurting her.

I grab the remote squished between my body and the back of the sofa and I flick off the VCR. After a moment of absorbing the silence I hear something I couldn’t before. Crying. Scully was crying. Not just crying… sobbing loudly. My god, it’s such a terrible sound. As I lay here uncertain of what to do, I can feel her pain filling me. Drowning me. I am finding it harder and harder to breathe. I have to go to her, but I worry about intruding. I worry about invading her space. Still, I must go. I must stop these tears somehow.

I stop at my bedroom door, which is slightly ajar. I knock, suspecting she has heard my approach as her crying becomes muffled and restrained.  In all the time I have known her, I have never heard her cry like this. She always appears so strong, yet beneath that protective shell I know she is vulnerable and fragile. I ache for her to let me in… to let me love her.

“Scully? Can I come in?” I ask, in a voice so unsure and low that I wonder if she would even hear me.

“Yes.” I hear her answer after a moment. I can sense her efforts to stifle her tears.

The room is dark, the only light in the room being that which filters in from behind me. I close the door, hoping the lack of visibility will make her feel less exposed and more comfortable. I tiptoe over to my bed as my eyes are slowly adjusting to the lack of light. I hear her move away and I wonder if it’s because she is retreating or because she is making room for me.

“Is it okay if I get in bed with you?” I ask, before moving any further.

“Yes. Please, yes.” I hear her stammer as she tries to regulate her breathing.

I slide under the covers, careful not to get too close to her. I am surprised however when a moment later she wriggles up against me, throwing her left leg over the top of both of mine. Her hand slides over me and wraps around my waist. I stay quiet, afraid I might say the wrong thing. Her cries have faded now, the only remainder her shaky, uneven breath pressing up against my neck.

I shudder. I resent myself for feeling any kind of arousal while she is in pain. I try to ignore it, to focus on the fact that she needs me. But it’s not just her hot breath washing over me, but her thigh slowly inching up and down and her hands trailing ever so slightly under my pyjama top. I know she doesn’t intend this effect she is having on me, that she is just seeking comfort. I bite my lower lip.

After a few minutes of laying in silence, her breath has calmed. I move my arm around her as she snuggles closer. I can’t help but notice the way her fingers have started trailing back and forth along my stomach. I’m losing myself to the sensation, to her smell, her warmth. I know I must stay focused on her, on what she needs from me. But her fingers are enticing me, pulling me into a low hum of arousal. She nuzzles her face into my neck and I feel her lips brush against my skin. I try not to gasp. But then her lips part and I realise she is kissing me, I can feel the warmth of her tongue sliding against me. The pleasure I experience is so extreme that I feel it between my thighs. I try not to writhe with desire. What is happening? She is still kissing me, suckling gently at my skin. What do I do? I am not going to be able to conceal my feelings for much longer.

Slowly her hand moves from tracing patterns on my side to the middle of my stomach, sliding underneath my pyjama top. God, her hand there… It’s going to push me over the edge. She inches it down slowly and I feel the tip of her pinky slide underneath the hem of my underwear. I inhale sharply and I know she must notice. Still, I am afraid to speak. I am afraid of doing anything that might make this stop.

Her lips leave my neck and glide across my jaw. Her breath is in my ear, hot and humid and heavy.

“Fuck me, Sam.” She whispers, pleadingly.

I can’t believe what I just heard, and I am trying to process what is happening. But before any semblance of a coherent thought passes through my mind she speaks again.

“I love you.” Her voice hums. “I’ve loved you for so long.” There’s a need in her voice - a kind of vulnerability and desperation I have never heard before.

I know I should speak but I’m too overwhelmed. I’m certain that this must be a dream of some kind. This couldn’t be real. But it feels real. It feels more real than anything I have ever felt. I still haven’t spoken since entering the bed, and I sense she is waiting for a reply. But my mouth seems to be unable to utter so much as a syllable right now.

A second finger finds its way under my underwear and I am gone. My hips rise off the bed involuntarily. The sensation jolts me back into life.

“Scully.” I gasp, helplessly. “Wait.” The words come out meek and feeble, as I try to fight complete and utter surrender. “Are you certain this isn’t because of what happened with Daniel? I need to know. I need to know this is real. I won’t survive this if it’s not.”

“This has everything to do with Daniel.” She whispers.

My heart seizes in my chest.

“I realised tonight why I can’t marry him.” She says, stroking my hair. “I’m in love with someone else.”

She buries into the crook of my neck, nuzzling lovingly against me. It takes a few more minutes laying here in the dark, letting the words and emotions and sensations wash over me, before I am able to speak again

“I love you too.” I whisper. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” I laugh, and cry in unison.

“That’s why you distanced yourself, isn’t it?” She asks.

“Yes.” I am relieved that she finally understands. I had to stay away not because I don’t care, but because I care too much.

“I can’t believe it took me so long to realise.” Scully mumbles sweetly against my neck.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I soothe. “We are together now.”

“Yes we are.” She replies.

She shifts beside me and instinctively I realise she is moving toward my lips. The next moment she is kissing me, and her tongue slides into my mouth. It feels like she is teasing and tasting and savouring every bit of me. The sensation is overwhelming. Then I feel her hand move down into my underwear, but they don’t stop this time. They slide over my curls and in between my legs. Fuck. I can’t believe this is happening. Scully. Scully wants me. She _loves_ me.

It only takes her a second before her fingers have found my clit. Now she’s teasing and stroking and circling. In only a few moments I am going completely out of my mind. I know with the incredible arousal that I feel that it won’t take long. But I want more, more of her. So I pull her hand away, my lips never leaving hers.

I roll her off of me and onto her back, pinning her in place between my thighs.

“Two can play at this game.” I say, my tongue plummeting back into her mouth as soon as I have spoken. I slide my hand down between her legs, and am dampened with arousal when she arches herself to meet my hand. I can feel her want, her desire. I never believed she could feel this way about me. I never believed I could make her feel like this, and the joy of it is flooding my heart.

As I slip my hand into her underwear I feel dizzy with lust. As my fingers slide into her crevice I feel how wet she is and I am beside myself at wanting to taste her. I give one last thrust of my tongue against hers before I pull away.

I kiss and feel and savour every inch of her on my way down to her thighs. I push her shirt up out of the way and she slips it over her head. I suckle at her breasts, teasing her nipples with my tongue. She gasps, and I feel wet between my legs. My hands slide up and down her body, feeling her, wanting to absorb and consume every bit of her. As my mouth moves down to her bellybutton my hand clutches her underwear and pulls them down.

“Are you ready, baby?” I ask, wanting to make sure she is certain.

“God, yes. I want you Sam.” She pants.

There are no words to describe what that sentence means to me, but I am determined to show her. I move down between her legs, and I gently kiss the soft mound of hair there.  I keep going until I reach her thighs. I stroke and kiss and lick them, and her legs spread apart in want. I don’t give in just yet, wanting her to want me… to beg me even. I can feel her desire growing as she wriggles under my grasp. I know I don’t need to wait any more.

I kiss her between her legs and I feel her wetness on my tongue. God, she is delicious. Her hands move down to spread herself apart for me. I dip my tongue inside her and it is beyond divine. The way she quivers with the stroke of my tongue against her clit makes me ache with desire. I slide my fingers into her as I continue to lick. Her breathing is becoming heavier, and the pleasured groans she is making is driving me insane. I know she is close, so I increase my pace, my fingers gliding in and out as I work her into a frenzy.

“Sam! God…” I hear her gasp, and it spurs me on.

I can feel her coming around my fingers - the steady throbbing as she pants and whimpers and tries not to scream. Her hands release herself and immediately find their way into my hair. I can sense her love flowing through her fingertips. I crawl back up her body to meet her, and she kisses me so deeply and strongly, I feel like she is trying to pour her love inside me.

I still can’t fathom that she loves me, but I know that she does. I feel it in every pore and fibre and molecule of my body. She slides her fingers into me and I am filled to the brim with love for her. I tear myself away from her lips to tell her exactly that.

“You are my everything, Dana Scully.” I whisper.

“Then you won’t mind if I ask you to take off all your fucking clothes this instant?” She giggles.

“It would be my honour.” I reply. “Mind if I turn on the lamp?”

“Not at all.” She answers.

I reach over and feel for the bedside lamp. I slide my fingers around it until I locate the switch and turn it on. The room floods with light and I blink and squint for a moment, blinded by the sudden harshness of it. I turn around to look at her, and as my eyes begin to focus I am astonished. The sight of her naked body on my bed, her long red hair falling everywhere… She is nothing short of breathtaking.

We lock eyes for the first time. I smile at her and she beams up at me. I can tell she is slightly embarrassed at being seen, but the affection in her eyes is much stronger. I am nervous about undressing, but I know what I want.

Quickly and wordlessly I slide off my pyjama pants. I crawl to her on my hands and knees. I pause for a moment beside her as she lovingly cups and strokes my cheek with her hand. I smile, my heart filling with joy and excitement.

I kneel beside her and throw my leg over her hips, straddling her naked body. The only thing that separates our pussies from each other is the thin fabric of my underwear. I lock eyes with her as I slide my shirt up and over my head. I reach behind me and unhook my bra before I slide it off, exposing my breasts to her for the first time. She cups them with her gentle hands, running her fingertips across my nipples, forming them into hard peaks. She leans up and takes one into her mouth, suckling on my breast. I am insane with lust as I grind myself against her. I grind until I am sweaty and panting and can no longer tolerate the barrier that separates us. I lie down on top of her, kissing her with as much love and passion as I can. I slide my underwear down to my knees, and she assists in their removal by pushing them down my legs with her feet.

I tear myself away from her beautiful lips and soft tongue and rise to my knees again. I place one knee between her legs and I begin to undulate my hips, grinding my clit against her thigh.

“Scully.” I pant helplessly. I am losing myself. I increase my pace, heightening my arousal with every thrust. I am panting, and moaning, and she’s running her hands over any part of me she can reach. I am close. So close.

“Come for me, Sam.” Scully gasps.

And I do. I spill over the edge with a euphoric pulsing in my core like I have never known before.

I collapse on top of her, covered in sweat. She wraps her legs around my body and holds me tight, brushing the sweaty strands of hair away from my forehead. My breathing begins to calm, and I am slowly awakening to reality. But it’s a reality so miraculous that it might just as well be a dream.

My drowsy mind wanders back to last night, when it was her resting on my chest.

“Can I sleep here?” I ask, just as she did.

“I’ll pay you to.” She whispers back.

This. This is everything I have been wanting for so long, and now it’s mine. She’s mine. Forever.


End file.
